A Night's Prowl
by iAmMikael
Summary: One Shot. Hannibal the Cannibal returns to America where he last left his heart. Please R&R. HannibalXClarice.


**Story: Hannibal the Cannibal takes a wee break from his trip and returns to America where he had last left his heart. ONE SHOT.  
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**Disclaimer: All names of characters & places in this story do not belong to me.**

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The Behavioural Science Centre of FBI in Quantico was getting crowded. After each batch of trainee have passed their tests and are allowed to venture into the field, investigating or studying to be a profiler, a new batch will be sent over. The buses keep multiplying and the applications treble within the fourth year that Agent Clarice Starling was there.

Agent Clarice Starling now given the title Special Agent, sat at her desk. For a year, she had been working in the musty office on the third floor of the building doing follow-up actions off the cold case files. Murder after murder of unsolved cases. Most of which required her to visit relatives of victims and filling up forms and sending out her card in case of any news. There has not been much.

Luckily for the FBI, Special Agent Starling was one determined little cookie.

Like any day after work, she would park her used, worn out car by the curb of her apartment. The apartment she still shared with Ardelia but the woman was probably out at town. It was near dark with colours slowly fading in the sky.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and trudged up the stairs.

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**x**

The uproar of Hannibal the Cannibal's escape was only intense during the first four months. The news coverage repeated the same things over and over again followed by the disappearance of Frederick Chilton, people speculating that there may be a link. Clarice was already sick of it by the second month and chose to isolate herself in her office the whole day. Only swimming thoughts of Dr Lecter would consume her mind once a while.

Closing the door behind her, she switched the light on. She walked up to her sofa and fell in it. She kicked her running shoes off and propped her feet on the coffee table. She hit the button on the remote and the television showed the evening news.

A few large headlines today on a serial animal abuser caught late last night chopping up his neighbour's dog. The owner of the now deceased Labrador had known the killer as a smart, quiet and disinterested man who had no wife but adored children. He came down late one night to get a drink of milk and heard a scuttle in his back yard. He went out and saw the man run a butcher's knife across his dog's throat.

The face of a grieve-stricken man came onto the screen; his nose was flushed red and his eyes watery from tears.

"I just can't imagine anyone would hurt Tommy. He was such a good dog. He was my best friend!"

Clarice cringed and turned the sound down low.

"Good evening, Clarice."

That raspy, metallic voice. Clarice sat up and jerked to her right. Dr Lecter's silhouette visible from her bedroom doorway. She wanted to speak but it felt like her hand was in her mouth. She could neither swallow nor close it. Her eyes wide and unblinking, afraid that the image of him might disperse if she did.

"Images of animals scare you, Clarice? Are you still having thoughts of the lambs?"

She managed to drape her leg onto the sofa to get a better position to look at him. He did not move an inch but she could vaguely make out a shine in his eyes, reflective from the dimness of the orange lamp set a few feet between them.

"I have been wondering about you, Clarice. I keep wondering what have Jack Crawford made his beloved trainee do this time."

The hiss in his voice was unmistakeable and the occasional slight distortion of the letter "s" re-assured her that it was not an imposter. She managed a weak smile.

"I have not been going around questioning death-row killers if that's what you're asking, Dr Lecter."

At the sound of her voice, Dr Lecter closed his eyes and remained that way for nearly a minute. Such a tease; her voice, her face. The drumming of her heartbeat against that soft skin of her neck. The carnal beast coming alive in him again but his pulse never exceeded 80.

He stepped into the light spilling forth from the living room just an inch from where he stood. For many years, Clarice had envisioned his face when she could no longer see him in reality. With time, his smile was lost behind his eyes and only a thin lip pursed into a crude sneer. The taut skin of his face had droop down with gravity. It morphed into a face she was not too keen on seeing.

There he stood but not the face she had seen so many times in her sleep. His smile was warm and directed squarely towards her. His hair was sleek, silver to the back of his head. His eyes.

They bore into hers.

For a moment, she did not remember where she was. She could only recall that damp stink of the Baltimore institution for the criminally insane and the hardness of the wooden chair underneath her, Dr Lecter on the other side of a glass wall. The only partition between them.

She swallowed a ball of saliva and blinked once.

"Dr Lecter."

It felt like the first meeting all over again.

Dr Lecter glided towards her and she shifted in her seat slightly to make room in case he wanted to sit beside her. He paused, noting the frantic look in her eyes having him so near. It pleased him so much.

"May I join you, Clarice?"

She nodded and he slowly lowered himself onto the sofa, his eyes never leaving hers. Another moment of silence. The television flickering in front of them.

He tore his eyes away and looked at his surroundings, quite appalled and suddenly amused at the row of magazines neatly stacked beside the sofa. Pictures hanging haphazardly on different section of the walls. Her little feet tucked underneath her. He let an arm rest on the back of the sofa, he gazed at her from the cup of his palm.

"May I get you something to drink, Dr Lecter?"

She proceeded to stand but he stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. Guiding her back down onto the sofa.

"How are you, Clarice?" he watched her but his hand never left her.

"I'm quite well, Dr Lecter. How about yourself?"

He shook his head slightly but Clarice did not know if he meant that he was not alright. He looked perfectly fine and well fed. His spidery hand stretched out and took hold of her hand. She was cold and clammy. Her palm facing upwards, he let his thumb caress her wrist, the vein beneath it thumping softly. It was such a terrific feeling, feeling her and her scent all over.

Clarice did not know what to do but the warmth of his hand was practically burning her shoulder under her light hooded sweater.

"Clarice, I travelled far and wide just to see you. I hope my timing is quite right. I extend my utmost congratulations. You are now a Special Agent. How fitting," he paused. "Special Agent Clarice Starling."

He really likes the sound of that.

"You are following my career, Dr Lecter?"

"Why, Clarice. What a grim thing to say. Do you think Jack Crawford would mind if I touched you?"

It escapes her mind how a refine, cannibalistic serial killer such as Dr Lecter might be jealous of another man. She slowly retrieved her hand, afraid to offend him but more so. She was beginning to enjoy this intimate moment. Sick and deviant thoughts swimming in her.

"No, Dr Lecter. He doesn't know you're here. Why would he mind?"

A low chuckle escaped the lips of her guest and he relaxed slightly in his seat.

"I would think not, Clarice. Or else I might have to resort to a hasty retreat. And I am just beginning to savour this moment."

The doctor licked his lips and the maroon of his eyes enlarged in delight.

"Busy, busy it is at the FBI. Tell me Clarice, you work so hard to please those who do not deserve to be pleased. Why is that so?"

"I am not trying to please anyone, Dr Lecter. I'm just doing my job."

"Noble Clarice. I wonder when you will ever see how invaluable you are to this world."

Words of praise hardly leave a dent on her. Dr Lecter's words were so heavily laden with something unearthly that she could not help but shiver.

"Where have you been all this while, Dr Lecter?"

She did not mean for that to spill out. Especially with that tone that had sounded so accusing. She immediately prepared herself.

The doctor traced the line of her jaw with his eyes. Never caring to look up as he speaks.

"I was in Florence but not before stopping by to wish bon voyage to Dr Chilton. You remember him, don't you Clarice? He's leading a much happier life now."

"You saw- Dr Chilton? When was this?"

"According to the news, people fear that he has disappeared. I wouldn't worry if I were you, Clarice. Let's face it, people like Frederick Chilton never should have breathed the same air as we do."

He stood up and walked towards the window. The drapes were pulled back, the moon was full and the silver light that filtered in illuminated him. Such was the sight that she choked.

"I came here, solely, to see you Clarice. I wanted to tell you that I wish to write you from my quarters in Florence and that you may come and visit me whenever you wish."

It was not a marriage proposal but she felt like she had just been bound to his mercy, to his hand, forever. She lifted herself off the sofa and walked towards him. With no partition this time, the urge to look at him square in the face, so close, was so tempting.

He did not turn to look at her though she was just a feet away. He continued with that droning, metallic voice.

"The moon is so bright, Clarice. Florence would please you. The Piazza della Signoria comes alive at night. The museums are a delight. I can take you there, Clarice."

She realized the extent of his invitation and it was really true; that he wanted to take her away with him forever. There was a bizarre beauty in the thought of running away with Dr Lecter which had not occurred to her before. For one she had always known, he would not hurt her.

With this knowledge firmly in mind, she reached out her hand and rests it on his shoulder.

There was hardly a reaction that she could see from him. He was nearly a head taller than she was and the back of his head was enough to enthral her.

Dr Lecter turned around slowly, the tip of his nose just inches from her forehead. She looked up at him, her blue eyes turning pale. His were darkening by the minute.

"Do you fear me, Clarice?"

He ached to hear her reply. His body was rigid but beneath his coat, she could almost imagine the layers of muscles. She could almost sense his restrain. The question sounded too ironic.

"I wish I did."

He lowered his head to meet her eyes.

"I can't explain it. I wish I feared you. I wish I could hate you for all that you have done. All those people you murdered. I wish I can tell you that I fear you and mean it."

The doctor raised a careful hand and his fingers stroked the length of her arm, softly.

"Why don't you?"

That was a good question. She could think of herself as a monster, similar to that of Dr Lecter. Her own monster. She did not want to say it out loud. She never had. Looking at him now, she knew she was in deep trouble.

"Because-"

He placed a thick index finger on her quivering lips. She did not back away. There was a car outside. He heard the door close and someone walking up the concrete stairs.

"In a week's time, Clarice, you will receive a letter from me. With it will be a return address you can reply to. That, however, is not my address so that I can be sure of our - confidentiality."

He leaned in close and whispered in her ear.

"I must take my leave now, Clarice. I will hope to hear from you."

As he slipped away through the front door, she remained fixed in cold sweat.

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**x**


End file.
